Like a Turtle Dove
by CLPlimpton
Summary: Pioneers from Ohio? Believable. From the 21st century? Not so much. And one of them seems to know far more about the riders than they know about themselves. When a group of visitors with an unusual backstory show up on the outskirts of Sweetwater, things are bound to change. The only question is, by just how much?
1. Chapter 1

Lenora McIntyre awoke suddenly, opening and abruptly slamming her eyes shut as they were met with a flood of bright sunlight. For several moments, wary of being blinded again, she lied there, greeted by only the reddish tint of the sun echoing through her eyelids. Cool sweat beaded on her forehead, and as she moved her fingers, she felt them trace through dusty soil. Gone was the ever-present buzz of the city – instead, crickets, birds, and a faint rattle wove together in a melody that reminded her of family vacations out west. Something had happened, but she didn't know what.

Curious, Lenora raised herself into a sitting position, shielding her face with her hand as she opened her eyes into a hard squint, gradually relaxing as she adjusted to the harsh afternoon.

_ What the…_

Rising to her feet, she instinctively brushed the dust off of her trousers – _wasn't I wearing shorts earlier?_ She had been, she knew. But now they were replaced by dark trousers tucked into blackish boots. A light cotton shirt with a Henley neckline replaced her previous Buckeyes t-shirt, and a brown jacket laid at her feet. She plucked it off the ground, swiping dust off its leather, and examined it briefly before draping it over the crook of her elbow. Her head felt heavier than normal, and as she reached to touch the top of it, her fingertips skimmed over something that felt like suede. A slouch hat. Worn, but sturdy. Black. Her brow furrowed as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Returning the hat to her head, Lenora took a deep breath and flitted her eyes to each of the people lying in the dust around her – a bizarre assortment of people she knew from high school and her undergraduate years. Immediately in front of her was one of her best friends, Amy Horsfall. Allison Pavlova lied next to her – strange, since she had been working for a big oil company in Louisiana for the past year. Off to the right were Al Brewer and Max Spiegler, who had each graduated from Ohio State the past year and moved to different parts of the country to pursue various technology jobs. As she continued turning, she realized that Knox Castillo and Benji Kohler were the closest to her – those two at least made sense, since she had been wandering around the Short North with them a few minutes ago. Aaron Maki was a little farther off, one long arm strewn out beside him, the other resting on his iron chest. _Wasn't he working at a military base in Colorado?_ Off to his right, Eleanor Zhao. _Geez, I haven't seen her since she moved back to Columbus_. The one sitting the farthest away she recognized as Dr. Fred Schneider, a professor with whom many of them had worked closely. He was leaning back against the wheel of some sort of covered wagon, and a dark bowler hat was tipped over his eyes.

Speaking of the bowler hat, each of them wore clothing that was more suited for a pioneer family than 21st-century young professionals working in America. Dr. Schneider, in addition to the hat, seemed to be wearing a light-colored frock coat, complete with a vest and white linen shirt. Eleanor was in a grayish dress – _calico?_ – well-suited to her cool complexion, and a woven straw bonnet was askew atop her black hair. Most of the men wore some variety of cotton shirt and trousers, with either boots or simpler leather laced shoes. Brogans, she thought they were called. Slouch hats were near each of their heads. Maki and Benji had on dark suspenders, and the latter's shirt had a particularly higher collar than the others. Both Allison and Amy wore light linen shirts and prairie skirts – Allison's a light blue gingham, and Amy's a dark blue calico. It was though they had stumbled onto the set of "Little House on the Prairie" or a John Wayne western.

Lenora's wide eyes scrutinized the rest of her surroundings. Dusty prairie grass waved for as far as she could see in most directions, only broken by occasional copses of spindly trees, brush, or rocky outcrops. The land sloped up slightly to her left, and the grass was broken by more exposed dirt. A road, perhaps? Turning back to her right, she saw that the covered wagon that she had seen earlier was parked beneath a fuller grove of trees. Quirking an eyebrow, she crept towards the wagon – what she now recognized as a prairie schooner as opposed to its cousin, the Conestoga – and realized that it was hitched to a pair of oxen. As she ran her hand along the schooner's cloth cover and wooden sideboards, something stirred inside her, but she could not identify exactly what it was.

Shaking her head, Lenora moved to the front of the wagon, where the drawstring was not cinched shut. It was filled, as she knew it would be. The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly pricked up. Somehow, she knew exactly what was inside – she was not sure how, but she had a vague memory of loading the boxes and sacks into the wagon bed. A water keg. Bedrolls and blankets. Staple food items – flour, bacon, coffee, spices, cornmeal, baking soda. Hardtack, salt, sugar. Some selected dried goods – beef, beans, and a little fruit. A coffeepot and grinder. A Dutch oven, skillet, and other cooking supplies and cutlery. Various tools were near the left side of the bed, while tenting supplies were tucked away in the center near stacks of books. A guitar – Maki's, she knew instinctively – was on the top of the load, where it would be free from harm. A shotgun leaned against the doubletree.

Their personal trunks were loaded in the front, filled with clothing and tokens of some shadow life in 1850s Ohio. A small wooden trunk closest to the front drew Lenora's eyes. It was hers, she felt. Shared with Amy. Her fingers hesitated over the latch before easing the lid open.

A wave of familiarity washed through her as she examined her section of the trunk. A second pair of trousers and a few cotton shirts. A simple maroon cotton dress, and a more formal one made with dark purple fabric. A smooth leather notebook sat in the corner, and she lifted it with nimble fingers. Opening the cover, she found that her own handwriting was scrawled across the pages. Intrigued, she began reading, hoping that she would discover some hint as to how they arrived here. Instead, the contents gave rise to implications and questions far more outrageous, hinting at a past in this time of which she could only recall shadows. Lenora carefully closed the book and set it aside, intending to give it a more thorough examination later.

She turned back to the trunk. A nightgown, pair of formal shoes, and various other personal items took up the remaining space. Underneath a pair of pale long-johns near the bottom laid a Colt revolver and holster. Before she could think to do otherwise, she extracted them and deposited them on top of everything else.

This gave rise once again to the queer sensations she had experienced earlier. Back in Ohio, in 2019, Lenora had never shot a gun in her life. She regarded them with a healthy sense of fearful respect and preferred to keep her distance – her father had offered to take her to the firing range on various occasions, but it had never appealed to her. But upon looking at this one, upon running her fingers over the barrel's smooth metal, an entirely separate set of emotions worked through her. Here, Lenora realized, she was efficient with a gun – more than efficient. She was practically an expert. It was a skill she had picked up before they had embarked on this venture and had long since perfected, coming to rival both Maki's and Knox's skill. The gun at her fingertips was a .44 caliber Colt "Dragoon" Revolver, useful for distances of up to 80 yards. Her shoulders unwound, and she grew confident that just as she had lived in and was connected to the modern world, she belonged in this world. _Whatever world this is_. She felt that it was sometime in the 1850s or '60s, and she realized that they were in the western prairies somewhere, but other than that she was at a loss.

Lenora hesitated for a moment before fastening the holster to her waist, dropping the gun in place and tying it to her thigh. She didn't know exactly where they were, but she felt certain that it would be dangerous. There was no telling who they might encounter.

She stepped back, replacing the lid and moving to check out the front wheel farthest from her, where the wagon seemed to dip down. The wheel had broken, and several fractures ran through the rim and two of the spokes. This was why their party in this universe had stopped on the side of the road.

A whicker off to her left caught her attention. A horse was standing several yards away, apparently taking a momentary break in its grazing, a few yards from two other horses which she knew to belong to Maki and Knox. He was not tied to anything – somehow, she knew that he would not wander off. She smiled – this was her horse. Rune. She moved cautiously towards him, a hand raised, murmuring quiet words. He nuzzled her hand with his nose, and she grinned. He was strong and smoothly muscled, covered with black fur that dissolved into an appaloosa pattern near his rump. A Spanish mustang. A series of memories surged into her mind. At least in this world, she was an expert rider, having ridden for years. This was part of the reason she preferred trousers over skirts – they provided greater ease of riding, in addition to the fact that they were more functional and comfortable. Her "here-self," as she decided to call it, had had Rune for three years, ever since he had been taken from the herd as a foal and claimed by her father.

Lenora reached instinctively for the locket around her neck, needing to ground herself in some sort of reality. She was glad to see that it had managed to make the jump with them. Fragments of memory were slipping into her head, making it increasingly evident that she was bound here in some way. The entire thing was mind-boggling.

Murmurs of confusion and rustling alerted Lenora that the others were beginning to wake up. Rune turned away to graze with the other animals, and Lenora wandered back to the group. They were in various stages of awareness – most were standing and glancing around with bewildered expressions on their faces, though Maki still sat on the ground, long arms draped about his knees, eyes squinting lightly against the sun as he looked around with an oddly relaxed expression. Dr. Schneider was still helping Eleanor to her feet. An annoyed look, tinged with fear, crossed Eleanor's face, causing her eyes to fly wide open and her lips to part. Most of the others just examined their surroundings with perplexed, somewhat curious eyes.

"What the – ?"

"How – ?"

"Where are we?"

Lenora leaned on her left foot, crossing her arms loosely. The others instinctively looked to her for guidance. "I'm not sure how we ended up here," she began, "but if I'm correct…we're somewhere out west. I think…I think it's the 1850s, maybe 1860s."

"1860s?" Max bellowed incredulously. His baseline volume was far louder than the average person's.

Lenora nodded. "Yes, 1850s or 1860s. Somewhere in the western plains. Maybe Nebraska? Kansas? Of course, if I'm right, they'd be territories at this point, not states."

"So, before the Civil War? Western plains? Like Tombstone, John Wayne, Buffalo Bill Cody? That sort of western plains?"

"Yep," Lenora exhaled. "Pre-war, I think. It's hard to tell exactly where until we meet somebody. I found a journal in the wagon –" She nodded over her shoulder. "–But it looks like the dates are just months and days, not years."

"Where is it?" Dr. Schneider asked.

Lenora retrieved it and handed it to him. He immediately started thumbing through it, reading small snippets. "Looks like your handwriting."

Lenora nodded. "That's the weird part. It _is_ my handwriting. It's _my_ journal. It's almost like…like…"

"What?" Knox asked, wrinkling his brow in concern and lightly touching her arm.

She took a deep breath and glanced around at their faces. They were looking for answers, just as bewildered as she was. Who knew if any of them would feel the same things that she felt. "It's almost like we belong here somehow." She met his gaze and could see his mind start to turn.

"What do you mean?" Eleanor remarked, rubbing her arm anxiously.

Lenora bit her lip, her brow creased, trying to put it into words. "Only a few minutes after I woke up, it was like I suddenly had tons of memories of this place. It felt like…we've had lives here. That's why I can tell you about when and where we are, approximately. That plus the obvious landscape clues and the clothes."

They were quiet, in various stages of skepticism and acceptance. "For example –" She moved toward the wagon, beckoning them to follow. "–I can tell you everything that's packed here, minus what's packed in your personal trunks." She patted the wooden lid of her own trunk. "I somehow just knew that this was mine, that _that_ –" She pointed towards Rune. "–is my horse. That I've had him for three years. Somehow, I…I know that I'm an experienced shot with this." She patted the Colt at her side and waited to measure their responses.

Dr. Schneider shook his head, chuckled, and closed the journal. "Stranger things have happened."

"I think she's right."

They turned their heads to see Knox stroking the mane of one of the other horses, a sorrel-colored mare who gently butted her nose against his chest, looking for a treat. He turned to them, making eye contact with Lenora. "I think this is my horse. Her name's…Willow. I…I _know_ her."

Maki made eye contact with the third horse, and she trotted towards him, her dapple gray fur rippling with her approach. She stood in front of him, snorting impatiently as though she was waiting for him to pay her attention. Raising his hand to her cheek questioningly, he whispered, "Indy?" The mare nickered affectionately.

"Can I see the journal?" Allison reached for it eagerly, starting to piece together their situation. Dr. Schneider looked to Lenora, and at her shrug, he handed it to her.

For several moments, the only sound was the light breeze pushing its way through the prairies, providing brief snippets of relief from the scorching sun as they all passed the notebook around, devouring passage after passage and scrutinizing the letters to ascertain whether it truly was Lenora's handwriting. She, herself, knew what the pages contained – entries relating the events of their here-selves' journey west, braving the same trail taken by thousands of other pioneers. She was beginning to be able to recount their own journey instinctively, as though she had experienced it herself. _I did experience it_, she reminded herself. Or rather, her here-self had.

Both Knox and Maki had already found their shared trunk, dug out their own pistols, and fastened them to their sides. Amy, Al, and Max had extracted their trunks and were riffling through them. Max's eyes were roving over a beaded bag, and he withdrew a small book with Hebrew lettering from inside. He stroked the cover lovingly, placed it back in the bag, and tucked it back into the trunk.

Shaking her head, Allison glanced around at them, tugging slightly at her collar. "So…we're here. How did we get here? How do we get back?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Lenora stated.

"Time travel? Alternate dimension? Is one of us dreaming or tripping on something?" Al suggested.

"Who knows, dude. Who knows…"

Max exhaled heavily. "Regardless of how we got here, we're here. What do we do now? What if we run into somebody?"

"Well," Lenora murmured, shifting from one foot to the other and resting her hand on her hip. "We couldn't control being brought here, so my guess is that we won't be able to control when we go back. And if we meet someone, well…"

"What do we tell them?" Al entreated.

"We tell them the truth. And hope against hope that they don't think we're insane."

* * *

Jimmy Hickok ran a rough hand through his hair and shook his head, prompting Sundancer to snort beneath him. He sighed and rubbed the horse's neck. "It's alright, bud," he muttered, attempting to assuage the horse's nerves. He could always sense when Jimmy was agitated.

Jimmy, the Kid, and Ike were on the road back to Sweetwater following an unsuccessful round of negotiations with Silas Doherty over a collection of Indian ponies. Doherty had gotten his hands on them a while back and the Express was looking to buy them to replenish a couple of stations. The old man was stubborn when it came to his finances, which had served him well in accumulating an immense fortune. Doherty had given them a price, and after a couple hours of negotiation attempts, he would not budge.

"What are we gonna tell Teaspoon?" Hickok hissed. His initial fury had started to die down.

"The truth," Kid said shortly, pulling Katy up to walk beside Sundancer. "We can either pay Doherty what he wants or try to find somebody else who's selling. But the Express needs those horses, one way or another."

They fell silent for the next few miles. As they drew closer to home, Jimmy picked out several dark spots on the horizon, off to the left of the dirt road. "What do you think that is?" Kid murmured, shielding his eyes with a hand and squinting.

"Looks like some folks from a wagon train." Jimmy replaced his hat and started his horse forward at a slightly faster trot. "By themselves. Probably broke down along the way and were left behind. Better go see if we can help."

He took the lead, Kid and Ike following close behind. As they drew closer, Jimmy could make out ten people, one older man as well as four women and five men who looked to be about their own age. "You folks look like you could use some help," he remarked, pulling up in front of them.

"It looks like one of our wheels is pretty badly broken," explained the woman standing closest to them. Jimmy sized her up quickly. Unlike the other women, she wore trousers, boots, a slouch hat, and a cotton shirt. A jacket dangled from her hand. Perfect for riding. Wire glasses framed her eyes, and her auburn curls were pulled back into a loose braid. She had an athletic build, short but not as small as the other women. She was a bit plain-looking, but there was something about her that intrigued him. A sort of warmth and confidence behind her mannerisms, as well as something in her eyes that made you think she knew something that you did not. Maybe it was because she seemed calmer than the others. Maybe it was because she reminded him of Lou. He shrugged that last part off.

"Want us to take a look at it?" Jimmy offered, dismounting Sundancer and handing the reins off to Ike. Kid followed suit.

"We'd appreciate that. Thank you," the girl said, returning a small smile of gratitude. She bit her lip as though something occurred to her, and as he moved to inspect the wheel, she lightly touched his sleeve. "I know this is a little bizarre to be asking, but what's today's date?"

Jimmy looked to Kid. "September 4th."

"What year?"

"1860."

Shadows of bewilderment crossed many of their faces, which was fairly discomforting. Something felt off, and Jimmy was nervous about what it might be. The girl with the glasses only nodded thoughtfully. "Alright…" she murmured, appearing to go deep into thought for a moment. Meeting Kid's gaze, she reluctantly asked, "And…where _are_ we, exactly?"

"A few miles east of Sweetwater. Nebraska Territory." Kid exchanged a wary look with Jimmy.

"Mind if I ask why you wanted to know?" Jimmy continued, looking at her with hard eyes, his muscles tensed.

The older man exchanged a glance with the woman, and she gave him a nod, as though granting him permission to speak. "Well, we aren't exactly sure how we got here."

"What do you mean ya don't know how you got here?" the Kid stammered, gesturing to the wagon. "Didn't you come with the wagon?"

"Yes…and no," the woman piped up. "What we mean is, we aren't exactly from around here…in more ways than one."

Now Jimmy was just confused. They were being extremely vague, and he did not like where this was headed. "What, are you a couple of spooks or somethin'?" Jimmy laughed half-heartedly, mostly to hide his unease.

"Then where are you from?" the Kid demanded, subconsciously resting his hand on his gun. By this time, Ike had ground-tied the horses to prevent them from running off and joined their small gathering, intrigued by the spooked tone in his fellow riders' voices.

"We're from Ohio, though we've each moved to different places recently," the woman began, leaning back and resting a hand on her hip. "We asked about the date," she said pointedly, looking at Kid, "because the last we checked, we were in the year 2019. Not 1860."

"That's absurd!" the Kid exclaimed.

Ike moved his hands in a series of elegant signs, and Jimmy nodded. He met the woman's eyes, and she held his gaze, refusing to look away. For the first time, he really noticed them – they were probably her most attractive feature, besides her thick curls and the curves that were vaguely visible beneath her clothes. But there was something in those eyes, in the irises that faded from copper to olive and back again, that told him she was telling the truth. They were genuine eyes, determined and intelligent.

"Maybe not, Kid," Jimmy murmured.

Gratitude flashed in the woman's eyes, though she remained calmly serious.

Kid sighed, still not buying it.

"Well, how do we know you're from the future?" Kid demanded.

"How in the hell can they prove that, Kid?" Jimmy retorted.

"I don't know!" Kid huffed, shaking his head and giving the woman a hard look. "Tell us somethin' about the future that you wouldn't be able to come up with if you were from this time."

"Well," the woman began, exchanging a glance with one of the men, "where we come from, we have this thing called television shows…They're kind of like plays – theater productions – but you watch them on this little box, and the people aren't physically there. They're like moving pictures."

Jimmy's interest was piqued, but he stayed quiet, letting her finish.

"Where we come from," she continued, "the three of you are characters on a television show. It's based on what we view as history in our time – it focuses on the Pony Express, and has characters based on actual people – but it's a bit different. It's dramatized a bit and isn't totally accurate, but it was interesting. My guess is that here, the version of history told by the show is what's real, as are its characters. You."

Kid gave her a skeptical look, crossing his arms defiantly. A few of the others shook their head, as though they were still struggling to believe that version of things.

The woman looked to Kid and then back to Jimmy. "Let me prove it to you."

Jimmy smirked, interested to hear what else she had to say.

"First off, the three of you are riders for the Pony Express. Now, is Emma still with you?"

Jimmy nodded, not taking his eyes off her. "Yeah, she is. She's getting married soon, so she'll be leavin' us here in a month or two."

She seemed to cross that off of some mental checklist. She turned to Ike. "Have you met Annie yet?" she asked softly, cautiously, as though she did not wish to hurt him needlessly.

Ike seemed astonished and slowly nodded in confirmation. The hint of pain that snuck into the boy's eyes was more fleeting than it had been in the past—he was finally getting over the woman whom he had nearly proposed to. This was getting spookier.

The girl looked off in thought for a brief moment, as though orienting herself. Turning back to Ike, she began to speak in a manner that was softly self-assured and familiar. "Your name is Ike McSwain. You caught a case of scarlet fever when you were young, causing you to lose all of your hair. You saw your family killed in front of you, leaving you an orphan, like most of the boys the Express employs. You can't talk, but you've learned to speak using Indian sign language, thanks to your friend Running Buck Cross, who's also an Express rider. You're good with horses—probably the best rider that the Sweetwater station has. You're also weirdly good with children, much to the amusement of your fellow riders. You're good at drawing, and I think it's safe to say that you're a pretty compassionate person."

She paused, letting it all sink in. Jimmy had seen Ike's jaw drop lower and lower the further she got, but Jimmy could only smirk in response. She continued, though it was obvious that she was attempting to hide a smirk of her own. "Buck is a half-blooded Kiowa—his mother was an Indian, but his father was white. That's caused him to feel like an outcast in both white society and with the Kiowa. He's your best friend, arguably more than that—he's your blood brother. You met at an orphanage and have been friends ever since. You even came to work for the Express together. Buck's what you would call…stoic." With that, she let a small smile toy on her lips.

Kid was grinning from ear to ear, but as the woman turned to him next, he sobered quickly. "Nobody knows your real name," she began, an eyebrow raised, "so everyone refers to you simply as the Kid. You're from Virginia, which causes some tension amongst all of you whenever the subject of slavery comes up. But you've shown that you're a good man by helping Ulysses. You're still just misguided by the concept of state loyalty. You're a natural-born leader, but that also causes some tension at times. You're fiercely loyal, but you can be a bit…over-protective. Take your love life, for instance." His face was slowly blanching. "You're currently involved with another one of the riders—Lou, or rather _Louise_ McCloud. Everybody except Teaspoon knows. Lou decided to dress up like a man in order to get employment with the Express so she can save enough money to get herself, her brother and sister started off with a ranch. The girl's got spunk, but she sometimes goes a bit overboard, feeling like she needs to prove herself. She's also got a killer right hook, though I'm not sure you've had the pleasure of coming into contact with that quite yet."

Jimmy could not help but crack up at how pale Kid's face had grown. The girl looked vaguely contented with herself, and she donned a smirk to match Jimmy's as she turned to face him. "James Butler Hickok." She grew more serious as she continued, tilting her head slightly to consider him. "When you first came to Sweetwater, you were a pretty cocky kid. Thought you were hot stuff with your guns. Uber-confident, always trying to put forth a pretty macho persona. Your pride was often your biggest issue. A lot of that is still your problem, and you're still hot-headed. You let your temper get away with you. But you're learning. You made the mistake of insulting a novelist named Marcus, so he turned to the pen for revenge. Wrote you into a character known as Wild Bill Hickok, and that has brought a whole lot of trouble your way." She seemed to look deep inside him, and it sent a slight shiver up his spine. "Now you have gunfighters hunting you down and trying to build up their reputation by taking you out. Not that it's worked yet. You still are far too quick to go for the gun. But you're starting to see the underlying pain that that sort of life would give you. You try to fight against your fate, but it seems to be inescapable, and that scares you. But despite your temper, and behind the "tough guy" façade, you have a good heart. You're loyal, and you care. You just try to hide it away, and oftentimes, people outside of your Pony Express family don't see it. You also are exceedingly talented at falling in love with the wrong people."

Jimmy was at a complete loss for words, and all he could do was stare at her as she finished. "What—How did you—?" the Kid spluttered.

She turned towards him. "Like I said, I know all about you from a television show in the future." She laughed. "I realize how absurd that sounds, but it's true. It's the same way I know that along with you three, Lou, and Buck, you also ride with William F. Cody, who is quite the cocky showman. Teaspoon is the station master, and Emma is kind of the mother hen to all of you. I could tell you more about them. We could tell you just about everything that's happened in the United States from now until 2019. But right now, I'll just leave you to judge whether what I'm saying is true."

The woman stood there, resolutely, openly, as though accepting that she had said all that she could. The Kid seemed to fluctuate between disbelief, suspicion, and confusion. Jimmy had to admit, it did sound insane. But she acknowledged that, and she trusted them to weigh her words. Considering everything that she had said, he could not fathom the possibility that she was making any of it up. Besides, her companions appeared to be uncomfortable with their surroundings and clothing. They continually fidgeted, pulling at their clothes, wiping at the sweat dripping down their necks, peering around at the landscape with uneasy eyes.

Jimmy turned to Ike. The bald boy gave an understanding sort of nod and signed, _They're telling the truth_.

"Ike's right," Jimmy declared, turning back to the group. "They're telling the truth. I don't know how you know all the things that you do, but I believe you."

She nodded in thanks and extended her hand. "I'm Lenora McIntyre. Most people just call me Lenny or Nora, though."

He took her hand and shook it, impressed by the firmness of her grip. Lenora proceeded to shake the other two riders' hands and then stood back, turning toward her companions. She motioned first to the old man who had spoken earlier, who was currently squinting at a pocket watch that he had extracted from his pocket. "This is Dr. Fred Schneider." She moved down the line, introducing each of them. Aaron Maki, a giant of a man with long limbs and broad shoulders. Short-cropped dark hair covered his head, and his skin was tanned, reminding Jimmy vaguely of Buck. Amy Horsfall, a small, mousy, frail-looking girl with thin black hair and a jittery demeanor. Benji Kohler, a rabbit-faced man with short chestnut hair. Allison Pavlova, freckle-faced with bold twinkling eyes and shoulder-length blond hair. She seemed to have an athletic build, but it was difficult to tell through the skirt. Max Spiegler was the loudest of the bunch with features that reminded Jimmy of a clerk that he had encountered back in Kansas – a strong nose, mop of curly black hair, and a bulky bottom lip that tended to fly about when he spoke. Al Brewer, tall and awkward with a prominent hooked nose and a receding hairline. Eleanor Zhao, an exotic-looking girl with a rounded face, short dark hair, and hooded eyes. And finally, Knox Castillo, tall and leanly muscled with a typical A-frame build. Like Maki, he had closely cropped black hair, but his complexion was remarkably pale, considering the sun. The riders shook hands with each of them, growing increasingly comfortable with the group as they passed through each introduction.

Kid was still shaking his head as he looked past them, eyeing the schooner. He said nothing. Jimmy shook his head at him and turned back to the group. "Well, the station's only a couple miles away, and I think we've got a wheel that should fit that wagon, so we could head on home, let the others know what we're doin', grab it and some tools, and be back here to help you folks replace it," Jimmy offered. "Then you could take some time and figure out what ya want to do next."

"We'd be grateful," Dr. Schneider assured, gripping the boy's shoulder.

"No need for thanks, sir," Jimmy waved him off.

Ike made an elaborate series of signs, and at their confused facial expressions, Jimmy smiled. His eyes were drawn to Lenora as he translated. "Ike says we could take one of ya along. Gesture of good faith that we won't just abandon y'all here on the plains."

Lenora smirked. "I think we trust you."

He gestured to the guns hanging from her and the other men's hips. "You sure you can use those if ya have to?"

She nodded. "We'll be fine."

Tipping his hat to them and casting Lenora one last curious glance, Jimmy slid into Sundancer's saddle and drew up next to the other two riders. "We'll be back within the hour," he promised, and they started off down the road.


	2. Chapter 2

For several moments, they were silent, watching the three riders disappear against the horizon. Lenora turned back towards the others. A look of sudden realization passed across Max's face. "Wait…did you say William F. Cody?"

A broad smile overtook her face. "Yep. Buffalo Bill Cody himself."

"He was a Pony Express rider?" murmured Al.

"Supposedly," she confirmed. "He claims that he joined when he was 14. Granted, in the world of the show, he was portrayed as much older."

"You said the one was James Butler Hickok?" Allison asked. "I think I've heard that name before…"

Lenora's smile widened slightly. "Think famous figures in the Old West."

"Wild…Bill – ? – Hickok?" Knox said slowly.

Lenora nodded slyly. "You're getting there. Though, I wouldn't refer to him that way—it isn't exactly a welcome name." Pausing to allow them a few more moments to wrack their brains, Lenora continued, a rare rush of excitement animating her language. "James Butler Hickok was a famous gunfighter, gambler, and lawman, one of the famed folk characters of the Wild West. He made brief appearances in Cody's Wild West Show. You might recognize the place where he was killed…Deadwood. Sound familiar?"

"Aces and eights!" Maki exclaimed.

"The Dead Man's Hand?" Allison queried.

"Exactly."

Collective murmurs spread through their group as questions were asked and answers received. She allowed their conversation to die down, gazing out towards the prairie. A few moments later, Benji's voice beckoned her back. "How did you know so much about them?"

"My cousins introduced me to the show when I was visiting them several summers ago. The Young Riders. It spices history up a bit to make better TV – for instance, Jesse James joins in season 3, and he was never actually involved with the Express. Hickok was about twenty-three when the Express was running, so he never actually rode, but he did drive freight wagons for Russel, Majors, and Waddell, and he worked as a stable hand at the Rock Creek station for a while. Plus the Sweetwater station is much, much nicer than the actual stations were. The other stuff? Well, I'm just a bit of a history nerd on the side."

More murmurs of interest vibrated through them. Eventually, Benji voiced their next concern. "Alright…they'll help us fix this wagon, but what then? Where are we going to stay? How are we going to get back home? And what will we do in the meantime?"

"I guess we'll just play it by ear."

* * *

"That sure is a crazy story," Emma declared, drying her hands on a towel.

"It is," Jimmy said. "But I think they're bein' honest. The least we can do is help 'em out."

Emma nodded, slapping the towel down on the edge of the wash bucket. "Of course." She paused, considering something. "They don't have any place to go, do they?"

Jimmy shook his head. "No, if they're right, they don't."

"Why don't y'all invite them to stay here? We have a couple of extra beds in the bunkhouse. I can fix up a couple rooms in the house here for the girls. Plus they've got the wagon with 'em, so the rest can always sleep there."

Jimmy nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly as he turned to meet Kid and Ike out by the barn. Emma followed him to the door, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. A small smile spread across her lips. Some guests would liven things up around the place. And she had a feeling that a few of the boys were already warmed up to the proposition.

* * *

Jaunty piano music lilted out the doors of the saloon as Marshal Sam Cain sat outside his office, lazily whittling away at a piece of wood as he watched the citizens of Sweetwater go about their day. It had been a fairly uneventful couple of days, only broken by two drunks who had taken swings at each other the night before. As much as he enjoyed his job, Sam was grateful that he had some time to breathe for once.

A band of about five men entering town from the east caught his eye, and he watched them closely as they led their horses to the trough outside the saloon. Most of them looked like the typical sort of men that came through – rough around the edges, trail-worn, donning guns at their hips. The man heading the group, however, gave Sam pause. He was clean-cut, dressed in an elegant suit, hat, and leather shoes. Looked like a downright gentleman better suited to a city out east than to a town like Sweetwater. He dismounted with ease, loosely tied his horse to a fence post, and waved his men on into the saloon.

Plucking a watch out of his pocket and feigning interest in the time, the man smoothed his jacket and strolled towards Sam. "Afternoon, marshal," he chimed in a decidedly English accent, deftly dipping his hat.

"Afternoon." Sam looked him up and down, not moving from his seat.

"Elias Schuler," the man murmured, extending his hand.

Sam took it and gave it a prompt shake. "Marshal Sam Cain. Welcome to Sweetwater."

"Lovely little town you have here, marshal," Schuler quipped, looking the street over before giving Sam a wry smile.

"It is, and I'd like to keep it that way." Sam stood to meet him, resting his hand on his hip near his holster. "What brings ya here?"

"Oh, just some personal matters," Schuler waved him off. "I'm a businessman. Finances. Banking. Most recently, land assessment and brokerage. I'll be in and out for the next month or so, taking care of some local affairs, so I wanted to introduce myself."

Sam nodded, looking hard at Schuler. Round spectacles shielded sharp pewter eyes and a meticulously kept brow. _Businessman, like hell_… "Well, if ya need anything while you're here, you know who to call."

"Of course, marshal," Schuler said, nodding his head and curling his lip. "Good day."

Sam narrowed his eyes as the man sauntered off and disappeared through the saloon doors. Something about him filled Sam with unease, but he couldn't do anything about it until Schuler's gang actually stirred up trouble. For now, he would just keep a careful eye on them.

"Barnett!" Sam tossed over his shoulder, turning back toward the marshal's office.

"Yeah, marshal?"

"I'm takin' the rest uh the night off. I'll be out at Emma's place if you need me."

* * *

"You girls can sleep in the house," Emma directed warmly. "I've already got a couple rooms made up for ya. Mr. Spoon, can you show Dr. Schneider where he'll be stayin'? We've got two open spots in the bunkhouse. I figure the rest of you boys can figure out who gets to sleep there and who gets the wagon."

"Thank you, Ms. Shannon, for your hospitality," Dr. Schneider murmured, a kindly smile lending a more youthful appearance to his leathery face.

"Why, of course!" Emma stated, patting the old man's arm. "Boys, will you help these folks unload and get settled in? I've got some stew on, but I'll need to get some more goin' to feed this many extra mouths."

Ike and Kid turned to assist the others in unloading the wagon while Jimmy gathered the horses and led them away. Cody, who had been busy cleaning the barn when the newcomers had rolled in, eagerly popped out and reported to Teaspoon, "The stalls are all cleaned and each uh the horses has fresh feed."

Teaspoon nodded and, seeing the way his eyes kept darting towards the wagon, drawled, "Good…now why don't ya make yerself useful and go take the ladies' trunks inside?"

Cody grinned and bounded off, pausing briefly to tip his hat towards the four girls before scooping up a trunk in each arm and lumbering toward the house, trying to hide how heavy they were. Kid and Ike rolled their eyes in unison, while chuckles of amusement rippled through the rest of the group. This was definitely going to be interesting.

* * *

Buck ducked his head slightly as he left his horse and headed for Tompkins's store. It had been a hard ride and he was looking forward to the bath, meal, and bed that would be awaiting him at the station, but he had an errand that he had to take care of before he headed back. He had seen a set of drawing pencils and a pad of paper in the store earlier that week, and he wanted to pick it up for Ike's birthday, along with some of the rock candy that he knew his friend was partial to.

The townspeople's standard looks of suspicion or curiosity were ignored as he slid through the door to the general store, dipping toward the left shelves where he knew he would find the pencils and paper. Scooping them into his arm, Buck soon gathered a small bag of assorted rock candy and slowly approached the counter, where Tompkins was shouting at a boy who had been helping around the shop. Buck winced slightly, not eager to become his next target.

He cautiously stepped forward and quietly deposited his finds on the counter, reaching for the money in his pocket and waiting tensely.

"Now you go and clean up that mess!" Tompkins shouted, thrusting a broom into the boy's hand. The boy quickly scurried off to some back room, eager to escape.

Huffing heavily, Tompkins turned to Buck and gave him an annoyed look. "I really don't have time to deal with ya right now, Buck."

"I'm just tryin' to buy Ike somethin' for his birthday," Buck pleaded softly.

"Well come back later," Tompkins barked, his brow a hard line against his face.

Buck's shoulders slumped, and he reached for the goods in resignation.

"Is this man giving you a hard time, my boy?"

Buck turned to see a tall, bespectacled man with sharp eyes and an even sharper suit. He looked like he should be shopping at some fancy boutique out east, not at the general store in Sweetwater. Tompkins eyed the man, his face softening slightly, probably impressed by his appearance. Buck held up the pencils and paper. "I'm just tryin' to buy my friend somethin' for his birthday."

"Ah," the man quipped, turning back to the shopkeeper. "And I imagine this man won't let you?"

"Now hold on a minute, mister," Tompkins chimed, holding up his hands as though to defend himself. "Nothin' of the sort. Buck here, well…"

"Mr. Tompkins," the man murmured cordially, a smirk twitching at his lips. "You seem like a sensible man. Surely you won't turn down the opportunity to make a profit. How much for the boy's selections?"

The man stared at Tompkins with piercing eyes, refusing to break Tompkins's stubborn gaze. After several tense moments, Tompkins finally sighed and jotted a figure down on a piece of paper, grumbling to himself as he handed it to the man. He was too tired to make a scene over some drawing pencils. Besides, he didn't need someone of the man's apparent status as an enemy. The man reached into his breast pocket and made a show of counting out the money before placing it deftly in Tompkins's palm. Buck smiled broadly and turned to the man. "Thank you, sir," he said, offering his hand.

The man gave it a firm shake. "No need for thanks. I hope your friend enjoys his gift."

Tipping his head, Buck hurried towards the door, eager to get home and bundle up his purchases. Suddenly remembering his manners, he stopped, turned, and asked, "I'm sorry, sir. What was your name?"

The man smiled slyly. "Schuler. Elias Schuler."

Buck nodded slowly. "Thank you, Mr. Schuler." With that, he bounded off towards his horse and was soon trotting back toward the station.

* * *

"And he nodded his head! The bear nodded his head! Apparently even a bear don't trust me!"

The table erupted in laughter as Cody exclaimed the last part. You could say a lot of things about the boy, but you couldn't say he didn't have a knack for storytelling. "To be fair, Cody," Jimmy chuckled, swallowing another bite of stew, "I wouldn't've trusted you to not throw me back in that hole, neither."

Cody pulled a wry face, sticking his tongue out at him.

Allison narrowed her eyes skeptically at him, still smirking. "Did you _really_ run into a grizzly bear?"

"Yep," Cody affirmed, taking a smug swig of water and looking her in the eye mischievously.

She considered him for a moment longer before shrugging and turning back to her plate. "Even if you didn't, Cody, it's still a hell of a story."

He puffed his chest out slightly. "Ya see?" he said pointedly to the other riders. "At least Alli here appreciates me."

"Ev'n a blind nut finds a squirrel sometimes, son," Teaspoon quipped, triggering another round of laughter and earning a mock glare from Cody.

Allison, still grinning jovially, patted his shoulder.

Emma smiled warmly at the group. It was nice to have some fresh faces around, and they all seemed to be good people. For a moment, she just observed, relishing the easy camaraderie that settled around the table. Teaspoon was in his element, sharing sage advice and memories from the war with Knox and Maki. Cody was eagerly exchanging stories and laughs with Allison, Al, and Max. Dr. Schneider was chatting up a storm, asking the other riders various questions about their lives and opinions on a variety of subjects as Benji, Eleanor, and Lenora listened in, occasionally chipping in their own thoughts. Even Ike seemed unable to shake off his smile, which she hadn't seen nearly as often ever since Annie left. She couldn't help but notice that Jimmy kept glancing at Lenora, studying her thoughtfully out of the corners of his eyes until he spontaneously remembered himself or was called back to the conversation by a direct question. Even then, his torso seemed to be angled subtly toward her, and she noticed that as Lenora shifted her arms into different positions, his would almost imperceptibly follow. Emma's smile widened wickedly, and she shared a knowing glance with Buck, who seemed to be thinking the same thing as her.

Sighing contentedly, Emma turned to Amy, who was seated immediately to her right. She had a simple gold band with a small white gem on the ring finger of her left hand, and when she noticed Emma admiring it, Amy blushed. "What's his name?" Emma asked quietly.

Amy's face glowed softly. "Zach," she murmured. "We're getting married next August."

"What's he like?"

As Amy began to answer, she was interrupted by a familiar exclamation – "Rider comin'!"

They all turned to see Marshal Sam Cain approaching on horseback. "Why, hello Sam!"

The marshal's characteristic crooked smile flashed at her as he pulled up beside them. "Hello, Emma." He dismounted, tied his horse off, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Folks," he nodded toward the newcomers.

"I hope you came hungry. Lord knows we have enough food to feed an army."

"I'll get somethin' to eat shortly." He touched her back lightly with his hand. "Teaspoon, could I borrow you for a moment?"

"Well, as long as it's quick, I s'pose so." Teaspoon made a brief show of standing up and removing his napkin from his collar before following Sam into the house.

"Wonder what that's about," Jimmy drawled.

"I'm not sure…" Emma's brow furrowed, her stomach sinking slightly.

* * *

"Well, that's a lot uh guns," Teaspoon whistled, impressed.

"Yeah," Sam averred, "it is. The army's plannin' to keep it as quiet as they can – they'll even be disguisin' 'em as furniture shipments from back east makin' their way to San Francisco. They're plannin' to have a few men with 'em – out of uniform so as to not draw attention to themselves. But you know how things usually turn out when it's the army handlin' things."

Teaspoon nodded, frowning. "What do ya need from us?"

"At the moment, just keep an eye out for trouble, and let me know if ya see anythin'. When this many weapons are around, someone's bound to come for 'em, just like they would with gold. It'll be comin' in about three weeks, so I might need your help when we get closer."

"Ya know you can always count on us, Sam," Teaspoon assured, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now, let's go get ya some food before they think we've off an' eloped er somethin'."


End file.
